


Collecting

by BARALAIKA



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Anal Sex, Debt, Language Barrier, Low Honor Arthur, M/M, Painful Sex, Rape, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 20:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BARALAIKA/pseuds/BARALAIKA
Summary: Wróbel doesn’t have their money. Even his goods aren’t enough for Arthur.





	Collecting

There’s three languages in the air and all of them are just pissing Arthur off. He’s Dutch’s guard dog, his heavy, his biggest and meanest weapon and it’s times like these that he’s reminded of it, when his blood is boiling and all that they have just still isn’t  _enough_.  
  
A watch and a wedding ring. A bottle of brandy sweetens the deal, but he’s greedy now and rage is clouding his judgement. Tempestuous and barely contained, Arthur snarls at the bloodied, beaten man as he cowers by the door, scared shitless and whimpering.  
  
“ _Get up!_  Up!” Bellows Arthur, making hand gestures at Wróbel to rise to his feet and he obeys, eyeing the intruder with nothing short of utter, blind fear. It only takes one stride for Arthur to close in, wrap one leather-wrapped hand around Wróbel’s neck and throw him around, then shove him back against his table.  
  
“ _(What do you want from me? You already have-)_ ”  
  
“I told you to shut your  _fucking mouth!”_ Arthur silences Wróbel’s foreign jabbering with a backhand and while he reels, turns him around and bends him over the table. One arm braces him against the table. The other hand grabs Wróbel’ pants and yanks them down, belt be damned. He’s seething audibly, hissing breath through his teeth as he fights with his jeans to pull out his half-hard cock and manages it, then spits on his hand and slathers it over himself.  
  
Horrible realisation sinks in and Wróbel starts to scream.  
  
Arthur lets him. He’s heavier, stronger and has a hell of a lot more fight in him than his prey does and they both know it, as he pulls a pale ass cheek apart to spit again, then rubs his wet cock against Wróbel’s asshole. He growls… and sinks his weight forwards, shunting his prick into an unwilling, squirming body. Blood and shit forms most of the lubrication, but Arthur doesn’t care. He’s too high on his power trip, on asserting himself, on teaching someone a lesson, on being the thing that Dutch wants him to be.  
  
“You understand me now?”


End file.
